


PAUL, THE UNDERTAKER

by StoriesAndMagic



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesAndMagic/pseuds/StoriesAndMagic
Summary: Short Halloween story inspired by my great grandfather who was an undertaker during his time. It's set in the XIX century in a European village.





	

PAUL, THE UNDERTAKER

 

Next day was All Saints’ Day but for Paul it was just another day. His job was that of an undertaker and grave digger since ten years ago. Despite disliking having to spend days and some nights with those that were already at the other side of the veil, the money was worth it. Especially when he had six kids to feed and a grumpy wife. The cemetery, up on the hill, offered him a beautiful view of the village and the possibility to pipe smoke whenever he wished.

 

That Samhain night, he was sitting on one of the stone benches, waiting for the moment to go back home. The air was cold and carried the scent of the pumpkin cakes being baked in the village. Mary, his wife, was surely cooking a delicious dinner consisting of meat pie, bread, soul cakes and a nice jar of cider. The sound of steps over the gravel woke him up from his reverie. He looked into the darkness and saw no candle or torch approaching him. Suddenly, a presence startled him.

 

\- Tommy! – He shouted – What are you doing here? You should be home, it’s late. You can come tomorrow to help me. I have finished my work for today.

The boy seemed a bit shaken. He wasn’t wearing any coat and his skin looked paler than normal under the moonlight.

\- Is there something wrong? - The grave digger asked him.  
\- I’ve come to stay, Paul. – The boy replied.  
\- Come on! Don’t talk rubbish! Go back home, your mother must be suffering.  
Paul got up, put his pipe out and placed it in the pocket of his frock-coat. He grabbed one of the torches on the wall and told him:  
\- I’m leaving. There’s a lot to do tomorrow. Walk down to the village with me.  
\- I can’t. I have to stay here.  
\- Are you nuts, Tommy? – The boy had always been a little strange, weird; this is why Paul allowed him to help with the cemetery tasks some times. No other boy from the village wanted to do it.  
\- Whatever. But you’ll be exhausted in the morning and your mother won’t forgive you.

 

Without adding anything else, Paul walked towards the gates and on to the village. He didn’t look back once, he just shook his head.

 

When Paul arrived in front of Tommy’s house, he saw a big amount of people congregated at the entrance. One of those people was the mayor, with his elegant suit and top hat. Paul approached him.  
\- If you’re looking for Tommy, he’s at the cemetery.  
The mayor stared at him all scandalised.  
\- What kind of joke is this?  
Paul didn’t understand anything.  
\- Tommy is dead. His mother found him on the floor in his room. The doctor has certified his demise due to natural causes. You’ll be busy in the morning, Paul.

 

The grave digger could not believe what he was hearing. He had read plenty of stories depicting events like what just had happened, he had heard tales but he had never encountered them. He had always believed they were ghost stories to scare the children.  
\- Rest in peace. – He whispered.  
\- A pity. He was so young. His poor mother is devastated.  
Paul remained silent and walked up the road to his house while his eyes couldn’t keep from being fixed on the top of the hill, on the spectral form of the cemetery.

 

THE END.


End file.
